


small promises of forever

by evawrites



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Basically just Narcissa and Hermione being incredibly soft, Established Relationship, F/F, Hurt/Comfort, Post-Second War with Voldemort
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-26
Updated: 2020-05-27
Packaged: 2021-03-02 22:07:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,032
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24394018
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/evawrites/pseuds/evawrites
Summary: For Narcissa, love is taking care of each other no matter what. For Narcissa, love is acknowledging pain and turning it into something beautiful and extraordinary and unique instead. For Narcissa, love is not so much in words as it is in actions, in the smallest things possible.For Narcissa, love is simply the way Hermione looks at her every single day.
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Narcissa Black Malfoy
Comments: 14
Kudos: 130





	small promises of forever

**Author's Note:**

> Have I been putting it off for the last three or four days? Hell yeah. Am I posting an unfinished WIP for like,, the first time in my entire life? Yikes. Am I totally freaking out over this? I am. So, all my insecurities down, I hope there's someone who will enjoy this. 
> 
> This fic was planned as a one-shot, but something went terribly wrong, so now it's supposed to have two or three more chapters. It was written on a _whumpster-dumpster's_ prompt which was sent to me by _homo-historicus_ on tumblr.

Narcissa shut the door behind her hurriedly, their apartment welcoming her with much-needed warmth. She hung a black umbrella on a hook so it could dry overnight and then took off her coat as quickly as possible. Even after all these years after she had stopped using various water-repelling charms and switched to an umbrella, she couldn’t quite enjoy wet clothes sticking to her body. Still, her daily walks in the evenings from Charing Cross Road to their apartment in Muggle London was one of her favorite parts of the day.

Mostly because Hermione had always been the one to accompany her.

They would meet at the Atrium at the end of their workday, floo to the Leaky Cauldron and walk from there, whatever weather it was—though after one particular evening, Hermione made a raging storm an exception, saying they would apparate if something like that ever happened again. To be honest, Narcissa got accustomed to getting caught in the rain in the evenings after the third or the fourth time it happened. The reason for it was painfully simple: Hermione loved the rain. Quite often, the younger witch would run out from under the umbrella and start dancing in the middle of a street after a particularly exhausting day. Narcissa would always stand there and watch, a small, almost unnoticeable smile tugging her lips. In the end, she had always ended up joining her girlfriend, and they had come back home soaking wet, Crookshanks hissing at them from the doorway.

When the sun was shining bright, they would stop by a coffee shop halfway to their apartment and get some coffee for their walk and pastry for their breakfast the next day. Other days, they would drop by Hermione’s favorite bookshop, and Narcissa would always end up buying at least five or seven books for the younger witch.

But there were days like this one, the ones when Narcissa’s job as an Unspeakable held her back after the end of her regular shift. On days like this, she would come home a couple of hours later, to the sound of jazz or French chanson from the living room and the smell of any dish Hermione had come up with from the kitchen.

That was precisely the reason Narcissa knew something was terribly wrong as soon as she entered their apartment. There wasn’t any of that. No music, no smell coming from the kitchen, not even a single hiss from Crookshanks at the water dripping from her hair. Then, there were other details, small, almost unnoticeable ones—just like her smiles when she and Hermione were surrounded by other people. It was Hermione’s coat lying in the middle of the hallway instead of hanging on the closet, the contents of her bag dumped on the dresser, and wet footprints on the wooden floor leading to their bedroom. It was so highly unusual for Hermione to live their hallway in that state that Narcissa felt her chest tighten at that. Somehow, Narcissa knew what she found behind the closed door of their bedroom wouldn’t be good. 

She just wasn’t prepared for it to be _that_ bad.

A shocked gasp escaped her lips as soon as she had seen Hermione. The younger witch was lying on their bed fully clothed, pressing a wet cloth over her face. The light coming from the hallway seemed to startle her girlfriend, and Hermione sat up slowly. Her movements were stiff, but she tried to pass them off for her usual, smooth ones. Judging by a noticeable shudder and her shaking hand, it caused a great deal of pain to her.

Narcissa swallowed hard and closed the distance between them as quickly as she could, sitting on the edge of the bad. Hermione clung to her arm as if it was a lifeline, but she still refused to look at her.

“Hermione,” the older witch started, hoping it would be enough, hoping her girlfriend would hear a silent plea behind these three syllables of her name.

Slowly, even unbearably so, the younger witch put away the wet cloth and turned to face Narcissa. The blonde pursed her lips and leaned forward to examine the injuries. She tilted the brunette’s chin up to get a better look at her face. Even in the dim light from another room, it looked terrible. Narcissa swallowed once again at the thought of what it would like in the daylight. The next thing she noticed was a bruise forming under Hermione’s right eye, and then her eyes latched on a deep cut across her right cheek. Next, she spotted the streak of blood right by Hermione’s mouth, thumbing it away as delicately as possible. Narcissa closed her eyes and took a shaky breath, images flashing right in front of her. She could picture it as vividly as if it had happened to her.

She gritted her teeth, feeling her chest tighten. It was as if all her blood was suddenly replaced by seething anger. As if all of her nerve cells were transformed into an uncontrollable rage. Narcissa hadn’t felt like this in forever, this undeniable need to hurt someone, to hold someone accountable for their barbaric actions. It was as if she suddenly was back six years prior, to the Dark Lord living in her house and making Draco’s life unbearable; to the Dark Lord using Crucio on her precious boy for the very first time. It was something buried deep inside of her, something that awoke only when her family was in danger and was hurt and suffering. Because that’s what Hermione had been for a very long time. Her family.

Narcissa opened her eyes, pursing her lips. “Who did this to you?” Her voice was tense and quiet, almost a whisper. She wasn’t sure she could stop herself from yelling if she talked any louder.

“Cissa, it’s fine, it’s no big deal, it’s not even that—”

She just shook her head, effectively stopping the words spilling out of the younger witch. Narcissa took a breath in, and another breath out, trying to stay as calm as possible.

It wasn’t fine. Nothing was _fucking_ fine.

Because Hermione sounded broken. Small. Her voice was hoarse and ragged as if she had been crying for the past hour. The feigned nonchalance in her tone made it even worse because it looked like even breathing was hard for her; Hermione was wincing every time she accidentally shifted. But the haunted look in Hermione’s hazel eyes was even worse. She seemed defeated, sounded and looked like it, and it was the sight Narcissa hadn’t seen for so long. The nightmares stopped about a year in their relationship, and soon enough, Hermione was back to being herself, not the girl haunted by the demons from her past, by Narcissa’s own sister.

Narcissa hadn’t thought she would have to see this look in her girlfriend’s eyes ever again. 

“Who did this to you?” she repeated herself because no, it _wasn’t_ fucking fine, it _was_ a big deal, and it sure _was_ as painful as it looked like.

Narcissa knew it was the gentle caress of Hermione’s unharmed cheek that made the younger witch start talking.

“I went to Knockturn Alley,” Hermione began, but that was enough for Narcissa’s breath to hitch. “They ran out of ingredients I needed in Slug & Jiggers, and I _—_ I thought _—_ I really needed that potion by tomorrow morning, Harry asked me, and I just _—_ ” she muttered, unable to stop the words from spilling out of her mouth. “Mr. Mulpepper’s was just next door, and it wasn’t even that far into Knockturn Alley, so I thought it was _safe—_ ” A wretched sob escaped her lips. Before any of them knew it, Narcissa was pulling Hermione into the gentlest hug possible.

“Shhh, it’s okay,” she whispered, leaving a soft kiss on her girlfriend’s forehead. It was still wet, either because of the cloth or the rain. “You’re home. You’re safe now.”

“I didn’t even think. It was so stupid of me,” Hermione berated herself, burying her face in the crook of Narcissa’s neck.

The older witch could feel a liquid on her skin, maybe water dripping from Hermione’s hair, or her tears falling down uncontrollably, or the blood from that nasty cut on her cheek. She sucked in a deep breath to steady herself and started stroking Hermione’s back in gentle circles. “Don’t do that, darling. It’s not your fault.”

“No, it is!” the younger witch said sharply, her voice muffled and still hoarse. “You told me, you told me not to go there without you, you told me it could be dangerous, but I didn’t even—”

Narcissa sighed, closing her eyes for a couple of seconds. It was true, she did tell Hermione it could be dangerous. Years after the war, Knockturn Alley was the most dangerous place for any wizards associated with Order of the Phoenix, Dumbledore’s Army, or Voldemort’s defeat in general. There still were some witches and wizards corrupted by the use of the Dark Arts or their upbringing, whose beliefs were based on blood-purity ideas Narcissa had outgrown herself. Even the ones who didn’t have their names plastered in every magazine or newspaper avoided Knockturn Alley at all costs.

And Hermione was simply… _Hermione_. The brightest witch of her generation, the Golden Girl, the hero of the Second Wizarding War. It was one of the reasons they decided to move out of their apartment in the wizarding part of the city and chose to live in Muggle London instead. Hermione was often followed by either reporters or fans as soon as she had left the Ministry.

The other reason was Narcissa herself. Although Potter’s support, friendship, and later her relationship with Hermione granted her some kind of safety, there were still people who believed she was out to get them. Moving gave them some sort of much-needed privacy, along with the opportunity to roam the city streets without being harassed or followed.

Although Narcissa had the strongest affiliation with the Golden Trio possible and played a certain role in Voldemort’s defeat herself, witches and wizards who believed she was just gaining their trust to use Hermione and Harry later still existed. They resided in Knockturn Alley. Therefore, she was somewhat a welcomed guest there these few times she and Hermione stopped by Mr. Mulpepper’s for potion ingredients. Still, Narcissa emphasized the danger awaiting for the younger witch as strongly as she could when she asked Hermione not to go there on her own. 

“Who did this to you?” she asked for the third time, feeling her girlfriend freeze at the question.

“Cissa—”

“It’s not fine,” Narcissa hissed. “You’re in pain, you’re _hurt_.” Her voice broke on the last word, and she sucked in a deep breath, drawing Hermione even closer as gently as she could. She hated it. She hated every second of feeling so helpless. “It isn’t fine. _Nothing_ is fine. You are _not_ fine. Don’t even try to tell me that, because we both know it's not true.”

Hermione let out a shuddered breath and relaxed in Narcissa’s arms, her breathing becoming more even with each passing second. The older witch wasn’t sure how much time had passed before her girlfriend suddenly spoke up.

“They attacked when I left the apothecary and turned the corner. No magic, no wands—just hands. There were… three or four of them, I think. And one of them—a man—had a ring.” That’s where the cut was from, Narcissa mused. “They knocked my wand out of my hand, and they just—I was on the ground before I even knew it. They—” Hermione took in a shaky breath, slowly wrapping her arms around Narcissa’s waist as if to ground her, to stop her from doing something reckless. “They said this was the treatment Potter’s whore deserved, the treatment a worthless mudblood should get every day. And then they—they broke it, and they left me there.” A broken sob escaped her lips as she pulled away just a little to meet Narcissa’s eyes. “They broke it in half—my wand, Cissa. They just _destroyed_ it.”

Narcissa clenched her jaw to overcome the rage boiling in her blood. Hermione didn’t need this, didn’t need her anger. She needed anything but that.

“We’ll try to repair it,” she started, keeping her voice as steady and calm as possible. She wanted to scream, she wanted to cry. She wanted to find those people who hurt her girlfriend, her _family_ , and make them wish they had never been born. “And if we can’t, when we’ll find you a new one, as powerful and strong and _yours_ as this one was. And right now, I’ll arrange a nice cool shower. How does that sound?” Narcissa quirked her lips in a small, supportive smile, as best as she could.

Hermione nodded meekly. They got off the bed and headed to the bathroom, the younger witch still clutching Narcissa’s arm, refusing to let go. Narcissa summoned their first aid kid, a mix of various potions and muggle drugs and gels. Hermione stiffened as soon as she saw it.

“Are there any other injuries I should know about?” Narcissa asked carefully. Her girlfriend shook her head stubbornly, and the older witch let out an exasperated, helpless sigh. “Darling, I can’t help you if I don’t know,” she tried again. “Please, let me help you.”

Hermione hesitated, but after a couple of seconds of reasoning, she lifted her wet shirt. Narcissa shuddered involuntarily as soon as she spotted a large purple-red bruise on her left side, the one which could’ve been caused only by repeated kicks of the leg. She lunged forward, her hand hovering over severe bruising. “Anything else?” Narcissa inquired, swallowing hard.

With every clothing item Hermione had taken off, there was more. Her left hand, her knees, legs, and arms _—_ even her ribcage. The younger witch’s body was covered in nasty purple-red bruises, and Narcissa tried to remember if they had enough bruise removal paste to heal them all. But all of the thoughts left her mind as soon as she cast another glance on Hermione’s face, that haunted, broken look still there.

And at that moment, Narcissa knew she would do absolutely everything in her power and beyond to make it go away.

* * *

Hermione wouldn’t let her go. The younger witch started panicking as soon as she was out of reaching distance, even when Narcissa had left the bathroom for three seconds to get a few spare towels from the closet and cast a quick drying and a water-repelling charm on their bedsheets. Hermione clung to her as soon as she stepped out of the shower, and Narcissa stifled a shuddering gasp at how small her girlfriend looked like.

Her movements were still stiff and rigid but seemed somewhat more relaxed after a cold shower. Yet, when Narcissa put Hermione to bed, the younger witch hissed as soon as her skin had touched the sheets. A couple of seconds later, Crookshanks appeared out of nowhere, jumping on the bed and settling on its edge.

Narcissa seated herself right next to her girlfriend and picked up a tube of paste from the nightstand. Her movements were delicate when she applied the gel to the bruised skin, but Hermione still went rigid or quietly cursed from time to time. As soon as she was done and most of the bruises faded, she healed a cut on Hermione’s cheek with a silently muttered _Episkey_. But Merlin, was there a spell to get rid of those shadows of the past in the younger witch’s eyes? She highly doubted it.

Narcissa helped Hermione change into dry and comfortable clothes, into this large cotton t-shirt that wouldn’t cling to her skin. She pushed her hair back from the younger witch’s face, cupping her cheeks gently. Narcissa leaned forward and left a soft kiss on her girlfriend’s forehead, on her nose, and then on her lips. Hermione’s lips were a bit cold and tasted like salt when the brunette leaned into the kiss, holding her closer. And just like that, when Narcissa pulled away a couple of seconds later, Hermione seemed a little less broken. The next smile the blonde flashed her was small but genuine, the tightening in her chest easing a bit.

“You need to eat,” Narcissa muttered absent-mindedly, stroking Hermione’s cheek gently, her other hand finding her girlfriend’s. She was too busy at work today for lunch, and that probably meant Hemione had also missed hers. “I think we had some pasta in the fridge. And I can make your favorite tea, the raspberry one.”

“I don’t want you to go,” the younger witch whispered.

“Oh, honey.” Narcissa bit her lips and swallowed hard. “I’m not going anywhere, not ever. But you need to eat, and I need to notify the Ministry we won’t be in for the next couple of days.”

“What?” Hermione’s eyebrows shot up instantly. “Absolutely no—”

“—no way you’re coming to work. And I _am_ staying home with you. This is not up for discussion,” she finished, her voice as stern as it could possibly be. Hermione let out an exasperated sigh, clearly annoyed. It looked like even being beaten up wasn’t a good reason for her to miss even two days of work. “Please, let me take care of you,” Narcissa asked softly, her words barely a whisper. She thumbed away a tear from Hermione’s cheek, feeling her lean into the touch. “I will be back in less than ten minutes, and I’m sure Crookshanks will gladly keep you some company. Is that alright?”

Hermione licked her lips nervously and nodded, loosening her grip on Narcissa’s hand. The older witch leaned in and left a gentle kiss at the corner of her girlfriend’s mouth, their lips brushing just a bit.

As soon as Narcissa entered their kitchen, she acted on autopilot, browsing through a mental checklist of everything she had to do in those less than ten minutes. She put a plate of pasta in the microwave and made a pot of raspberry tea. After that, she wrote a quick letter to the Ministry, explaining both she and Hermione would be absent for the next few days due to unfortunate circumstances. Narcissa debated her next task for three minutes before deciding to go through with it. She had never sent a howler before in her life, but now she was sure it was necessary. Her message started with ‘Harry James _fucking_ Potter’ and got harsher as she kept writing.

She went to the windowsill in the living room and opened the cage with their snowy-white owl. She gave it two of her letters and opened the window with a quick gesture of her hand. The next second, Caesar flew away.

Narcissa closed the window and hurried to the kitchen, putting a plate and two cups on the tray. When she entered their bedroom, she found Hermione lying right next to Crookshanks, petting him absent-mindedly. Narcissa’s steps were measured, and her expression was calm when she put the tray on the closest nightstand. She sat on her usual side of the bed, pulling her legs to her chest, then handed the younger witch a plate and fork.

While Hermione was eating, Narcissa closed her eyes and leaned back against the headboard. It was the first time she had been able to breathe out since she came home. She was sure she had been holding her breath ever since she saw the mess in the hallway. Narcissa had tried not to think about it before, while she was busy tending to Hermione’s injuries and taking care of her, but now all the thoughts came back to her with a tremendous force. And it wasn't just the thoughts _—_ it was inevitable ‘what-ifs’.

What if it wasn’t enough for these wizards in Knockturn Alley just to hurt Hermione the way they did? What if they decided to throw a couple of _Crucios_ at her? What if they hadn’t left her in the alley, but had taken her with them? Could all of that have been avoided if Narcissa hadn’t been working late?

“I can hear you thinking, you know.” Hermione’s voice was quiet, even, and it was so impossibly close. Narcissa let out a shuddering breath and turned her head to the right, meeting with her girlfriend’s worried eyes. It was ridiculous, Narcissa mused. Hermione wasn’t supposed to worry about anything right now. She still looked so small, not quite like that fateful day at Malfoy Manor, but somewhat similar. “Stop,” the younger witch whispered, cupping her cheek gently. _Stop_ , Narcissa told herself, but the thoughts of everything both of them had been through swirled inside her head like a whirlwind. “Cissa, don’t do that. There’s nothing you can change about that. I promise everything is _fine—_ ”

That did it. Because they both knew _nothing_ was fucking fine.

Before Narcissa could realize it, tears were falling down her cheeks while she was wiping them away violently. “I’m sorry,” she said, her voice cracking. “I’m so sorry. It’s not fair. You shouldn’t—” She shook her head, trying to make it not sound like _you shouldn’t have to deal with me in that state, not now_. She couldn’t even force any words out when Hermione pulled her closer in the tightest embrace possible, placing Narcissa’s head on her chest.

Narcissa clutched Hermione’s cotton t-shirt and cried, letting her tears fall freely for the seventh time in her life.

The first time that happened was when Andromeda fled. The second one was the day Bella, Rodolphus, Lucius, and Rabastan got their Dark Marks. Then, the day Draco was born was the first time ever she had been crying from happiness, not from grief, regret, and guilt. A few months later, Narcissa wept when she heard about what Bella, Rod, and Bastan did to the Longbottoms and what would happen with them for it. Tears were falling down her face for two or three or maybe seven hours after Draco came home and showed her his Dark Mark, this skull and snake that would be etched in his skin forever. She cried the day Bellatrix, Rodolphus and Rabastan—her _family—_ had died in the Battle of Hogwarts, even though these people hadn’t been the ones she knew and loved for a long, long time.

The sixth time was the moment of her first kiss with Hermione, a single tear streaming down her cheek when the younger witch pulled away for a few seconds to look at her. The sun was shining brightly through the windows of the French library, enveloping them both in its rays. Hermione’s lips tasted like chocolate and starlight, and later Hermione told her Narcissa’s own tasted like salt and raspberry. That day, Narcissa knew for sure she would never, ever let the other witch go, no matter what would happen in the future.

Until this day, Narcissa couldn’t even imagine what it would feel like, losing Hermione. She never wanted to feel like this again.

She wasn’t sure how much time it had taken for her to stop sobbing uncontrollably, but by the time she was done, Crookshanks had moved from his spot at Hermione’s side and was lying right at her feet as if trying to console her. When Narcissa had finally spoken up, her voice was hoarse and cracked.

“I don’t know what my life would be like without you in it,” she admitted, the throbbing in the back of her throat making her swallow hard. “What I do know is that I don’t want neither imagine nor experience it. Not ever.”

“Okay,” Hermione said simply, leaving a soft kiss somewhere in Narcissa’s platinum-blonde hair, still wet and a bit tangled. “I don’t plan on living without you either.”

It was as simple as that. Not an ‘I love you’, not those eight letters and three words Narcissa longed to hear but didn’t dare to say herself. But these eight words and thirty-three letters—there was so much promise in them, the promise of happiness and love and _forever_. And for Narcissa, that was enough.

**Author's Note:**

> Feedback is always appreciated! 
> 
> My tumblr is [evadwrites](https://evadwrites.tumblr.com).  
> My twitter is [evadwrites](https://twitter.com/evadwrites).
> 
> (yes. i know. i’m _that_ original with my usernames.)


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